


Come Here, Hold Me

by nazgularepeopletoo



Series: Just, Please [4]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, This is not Happy, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, interim fic, vaguely though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2019-02-27 22:16:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13257717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nazgularepeopletoo/pseuds/nazgularepeopletoo
Summary: This takes place somewhere in between Just Touch Me, Please and Just Ask Me, Please. Wesley is alone and needs some relief. Francis is willing enough, so he'll do.





	Come Here, Hold Me

         It was 3:57 am. That’s what the phone screen said, anyway, so he might as well believe it. Why…? Was he awake? At 3:57 am? Sometimes he was still awake at that time but he had specifically been given the night off to rest after he had nearly crashed the car earlier that day. He was lucky that he wasn’t fired or, more likely, murdered, but he assumed it was because they didn’t want to have to trust anyone else. Or they actually cared about him, which was just wishful thinking.

         The phone rang again, yanking him out of his half-asleep thoughts. _Shit._ What if it was an emergency and those seconds that he had wasted missing the call last time were the ones that made the difference? What if his employer was laying in a ditch somewhere and he- _just ANSWER THE GODDAMN PHONE_

         “Hello…?” He winced at how scratchy and tired his voice was. Had he been drinking? A glance at the nightstand told him that yes, he had been. Suppressing a groan, he ran a hand down his face, waiting for whoever was on the other end of the line to respond.

         “Francis.” The quiet voice of James Wesley filled his ear. He immediately sat up, scrunching his eyes at the wave of dizziness that assaulted him. “I need you to bring the car around.”

         “Sir..? What’s going on?” He pressed the phone against his ear with his shoulder as he scrambled out of bed, nearly tripping on the sheets that managed to get tangled around his leg.

         “I just need you to get here as quickly as possible.” He nodded, yanking on his pants. Wait… was that desperation ? In Wesley’s voice? Alright something _must_ be wrong.

         “I’ll be right there sir.” Without another word Wesley had hung up, leaving Francis to finish dressing quickly. So he may have missed a button, but no one would notice.

*****

         Thirty minutes later, Francis was pulling into the lot in front of Wesley’s apartment. He hesitated in the car, not sure if he should call to alert Wesley of his arrival or not. Eventually he decided to just go in. What if Wesley was in danger and couldn’t answer the phone? Drawing his piece, which he had thankfully remembered, he let himself into the building. The elevator was probably too obvious, so he headed up the stairs. Of course he was slightly hungover, so that went about as well as could be expected.

         When he stumbled out of the stairwell, Wesley was waiting at the door to his apartment. That was weird, right? Wasn’t he supposed to be in trouble? Or something? He stopped just feet shy of the door, making Wesley visibly annoyed.

         “Sir, I thought….” Francis frowned. “You’re okay.” Wesley closed his eyes, apparently trying to gather himself, before grabbing Francis’ arm and dragging him into the expansive apartment. “Sir wh-”

         He didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence. Mostly because Wesley had decided to kiss him, hard. Which was fine, it was more than fine actually; he had been wanting this for so long. Except it wasn’t, and he knew it wasn’t, because Wesley belonged to Fisk in every sense of the word. He pushed away.

         “Sir, I don’t think we should be doing this.” Wesley huffed out a breath, effectively cutting off Francis again.

         “Francis. Will you… I need this. Please.” His voice sounded so desperate, a hint of it creeping into his eyes. Francis blinked. He had never seen his superior act like this. So he nodded. He let himself get lost in the heady scent of Wesley, the taste of his lips, the feel of his hands as they tore at his clothes. He let himself be pulled along, let himself be drug to the bedroom and shoved on the bed before finally pulling his remaining clothes off, pressing kisses to Wesley’s face, hands, anything he could reach.

         He didn’t say anything when Wesley pressed into him, far too soon yet not soon enough. He didn’t say anything when Wesley neglected to touch him, simply using him as a body to get off in. He didn’t say anything when Wesley groaned “Wilson” as he came, and if Wesley heard him crying in the shower afterwards, neither of them brought it up.

*****

         The bedroom was silent as Francis pulled on his clothes, trying not to wince visibly at the stretch of overworked muscles. When he straightened up, he was surprised by the sight of Wesley with a cup of water and ibuprofen. Wesley sighed quietly at the look on his face, setting the water on the bed side table and passing him the pills.

         “Will you stay? We need to be up in a few hours, and it wouldn’t do to have you fall asleep at the wheel.” Both Francis and Wesley knew that their apartments weren’t that far away from each other. So Francis nodded, taking the pills with a gulp of water and pulling his suit off, leaving him just in a tank top and underwear. Wesley hung up his suit and climbed into bed.

         They didn’t touch, but both of them fell asleep, an inch apart, comforted by the sound of another person’s breath.

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted an excuse to write Francisley so here it is whoops *shrug emoji*


End file.
